


The Absence of Feeling

by pitytheviolins



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 10x18, Angst, Episode Tag, Gen, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Vague mentions of Dean/Cas, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 06:08:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3757354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pitytheviolins/pseuds/pitytheviolins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>10x18 Episode tag.<br/>Full of Cas-feels.<br/>Un-betaed. All mistakes are my own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Absence of Feeling

Now that Castiel has his own grace back, he feels… hollow. More hollow than he felt with the borrowed (stolen) grace.

But that’s not right, because he doesn’t feel at all, not really. Even just weeks ago, when he told Sam he missed PB+J, he meant it. Now he just remembers what it is to feel, but he can’t experience it anymore. His grace stands between the hormones and neuroreceptors that make up human emotion.

He can’t even fly, not yet, which is what he missed most about being an angel. He should be grateful he even has wings, that Metatron sent him to Earth graceless so they didn’t burn up in the meteor shower with the rest of his family. All he needs is a good molt and he can travel through the ether in microseconds like before.

Though Metatron is on the loose with the demon tablet, all it takes is one phone call from Sam before he’s back in the Continental headed towards Lebanon. He can hear Dean thinking about him, not really praying, but Cas can feel it all the same. The longing. His grace thrums to hear it, which is as close as his angelic self gets to feeling, really.

So he drives to them, his Winchesters, with only his thoughts as company for hours. He’s not sure if it’s better or worse than Metatron’s incessant yapping. At least that brought him anger, rusty and bitter in this skin that has already been his alone for years.

Metatron was wrong - he doesn’t miss being human. Not really. Not most of it. He doesn’t miss digestion, urination, the vulnerability of sleep. All he still has as a reminder of his former humanity is the loneliness of his thoughts without the echoes of the host; they still disapprove of him, and some of his siblings may hunt him if he opens himself up to communion.

If Castiel could feel, he would miss other things: the kindness of strangers, the taste of burritos, that warm shower at the bunker.

He would not, does not, miss the despair at being told to leave the place he believed could be a home, or the people who already were. He understands the circumstances now, but true forgiveness still evades him here.

He drives towards the bunker, knowing that he doesn’t belong, there or in Heaven, and feeling only echoes of what he knows he could.

 

\---

 

He doesn’t eat the pizza. He watches the others enjoy it knowing it would be a waste and he would taste only molecules.

Sam begs off to bed early, citing exhaustion. Cas is almost distracted enough to not notice the guilt in his eyes, but he decides to leave it for the time being.

After cleaning up, Charlie suggests they watch the new Game of Thrones episode. Cas hasn’t seen any of it, but he follows her and Dean to the room with the recently added television regardless. He doesn’t know what else he would be doing, or where else he would be.

He notices that Charlie purposefully sits herself on one end of the couch so he and Dean end up next to each other, thighs brushing when they shift. He notices the absence of the rush of hormones and fluttering in his abdomen that he remembers from just last year. He frowns at his leg as the theme song begins playing.

One hour later, Dean and Charlie are slumped against the couch and each other, asleep - exhausted from the fight in a way that Castiel no longer will be. He brushes their foreheads to make sure their sleep is deep and restful and carries each of them to their rooms before moving to the library. He has more hours alone now.

This used to be when he would return to Heaven, or at least watch over Dean, but Cas can’t bring himself to watch Dean struggle with the nightmares with which the Mark won’t let him interfere. He still takes responsibility for Dean taking on the Mark. If he had only been there, been at full power, not let Dean think he needed to take on Abbadon alone. He had been wasting his time hunting rogue angels and trying to reconstruct Heaven.

Metatron was right about one thing; Heaven is doing well under Hannah’s guidance. Castiel is grateful for this. He never liked being a leader anyway, though he had felt it was his responsibility. He is starting to think his time there had been wasted. Why did he assume it would fall to pieces without him? His brothers and sisters are better off with him gone.

Castiel doesn’t feel anymore, not really, but he still doubts. He doubts his past actions and intentions. He regrets. The “rogue” angels he and Hannah killed, they just wanted to experience humanity. Had he not been the same only a few short years before? Spending most of his time on Earth with the Winchesters. Had Gabriel and Balthazar not done the same, if not with more hedonistic tendencies? Did he really fault them, in the end? But now they are all dead: all of the angels too fond of humanity, except for Castiel. Though he has died twice and his Father brought him back both times. He doesn’t know why. He doubts his Father still, that He would think such actions wise - all he has done since has been to cause chaos and destruction. Hubris had taken hold; everything his responsibility, but trying to remedy things always ended in someone’s death.

Shaking off these thoughts, Castiel sits and waits, tries to clear his mind to meditate, rather unsuccessfully. With a deep sigh he doesn’t need to survive anymore, he walks to the shelves to pick up a volume of lore on demons. He cracks it open and begins annotating, crossing out untruths and clarifying inaccuracies, adding things where relevant. At least he can be useful to someone, while he’s here, until he figures out where he belongs or remembers how to feel.

 

 


End file.
